


Kiss Me Through the Phone

by BreatheInBreatheOutMoveOn



Category: Persona 4, Souyo - Fandom, persona - Fandom
Genre: "Partners", Another Phone Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, SHITTY TITLES, Sex operator, Sexual Tension, These Idiots, can't stop won't stop, cracked phones, kill me, no really, so fucking funny, souyo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8597182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreatheInBreatheOutMoveOn/pseuds/BreatheInBreatheOutMoveOn
Summary: It was a simple, innocent, gesture. That at some point got lost in translation between pages of fake breasts and innocent, open mouths, and now Yosuke’s hands are shaking, with both need and nervousness, as he grips the crumpled magazine with one hand, and his cell phone with the other.  The phone rings again. Loud, and shrill, jarring him out of his half hazed thoughts as he licks his lips and curses his own stupidity under his breath. He counts the seconds between each ring, hoping to bring himself down enough to successfully convince himself of what an ass he’s being and actually follow through with hanging up the phone and throwing away the mail. But somewhere within the two and three second mark, between the next series of rings, the line clicks and goes quiet, and suddenly someone is breathing quietly on the other end, and Yosuke’s heart is beating so quickly that he almost wonders if he should be calling an ambulance instead. “What’s your name?”                                  _______________________________________________In which Yosuke gets porn in the mail and Yu works at an anonymous sex hotline.





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Another shit-post story from BiBoMo~
> 
> Big thanks goes to my Partner for this one, for being my betta and shamelessly reading through my smut.   
> They don't have a tumblr or Ao3, but know that they are a big part of the reason this disasterpiece exists. 
> 
> It's the porn/plot sex story no one asked for, so I'm going to spit out a couple chapters today and see where this thing goes.
> 
> Always leave feedback, dear readers, you can find me on Tumblr @BiBoMo (BreatheinBreatheoutMoveon) And most of all, as always, enjoy! 
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.   
> If your smut-shy, probably don't read this

It starts with a phone call. An innocent, short series of digits that are immediately followed by a few sharp, crackling rings, pressed too closely to his ear.

 

_ “This is dumb. Fucking stupid. What a joke.”  _

 

He repeats the mantra again under his breath, gripping the advertisement in his other hand until his knuckles turn white, four pale digits that peak out from beneath his long sleeve shirt and crumple the soft pages of the magazine.

 

It starts with a phone call, that started with a magazine. A porn magazine, to be exact. Some cheap subscription that had accidentally been stuffed into his mail box, instead of whatever perv living next door to him, had actually  _ signed up  _ to pay 10,000 yen a month for a pamphlet full of fake tits that he’s sure are even  _ more  _ fake than in the pictures. 

 

But Yosuke has never been one to pass up opportunity when it comes knocking and he’s sure that it would be a lot more uncomfortable for  _ him _ to come knocking on whosoever door the magazine was meant to be sent to. Especially since these sort of subscriptions are discreet enough to not come with a name, address, or any sort of identifier on the label, and knocking on each door of his apartment floor asking them if they’ve received their porn in the mail this month is absolutely out of the question. He was mortified enough when he had caught the mailman during his delivery and was handed a small stack of envelopes with the magazine on display on top. He had, of course, managed to at least stutter out a panicked, “That’s not mine” before the other man huffed a disinterested laugh and had responded with an insincere, “Of course it’s not” before walking away.

  
  


Honestly he had started flipping through it as a joke. He had planned to throw it out before his younger brother got home from school, not that Teddie is more than just a year and eight months younger, but he has the sort of innocent naivety to actually  _ suggest  _ they go door to door, finding the magazine's owner, and Yosuke already paid for his yearly lease up front, thank you very much.

 

It was a simple, innocent, gesture. That at some point got lost in translation between pages of fake breasts and innocent, open mouths, and now Yosuke’s hands are shaking, with both need and nervousness, as he grips the crumpled magazine with one hand, and his cell phone with the other. 

 

The phone rings again. Loud, and shrill, jarring him out of his half hazed thoughts as he licks his lips and curses his own stupidity under his breath. He counts the seconds between each ring, hoping to bring himself down enough to successfully convince himself of what an ass he’s being and actually follow through with hanging up the phone and throwing away the mail. But somewhere within the two and three second mark, between the next series of rings, the line clicks and goes quiet, and suddenly someone is breathing quietly on the other end, and Yosuke’s heart is beating so quickly that he almost wonders if he should be calling an ambulance instead.

 

“What’s your name?” 

  
  


The voice is low and a little breathy, warm and inviting and  _ masculine? _ And something sharp and not unpleasant jolts through Yosuke’s fingers like electricity, causing him to drop the phone and the magazine at the same time. The magazine somehow manages to land on the kitchen rug that Yosuke is only halfway standing on, but the phone hits the tiled floor with a loud crack. He yelps out an undignified squawk of a curse before he drops down and picks up the phone, turning it over in his hands and gaping at the new long crack that runs down the center of the screen.

 

“ _ Fuck  _ I broke it?” He breathes out irritably, and he runs his thumb across the screen and watches the buttons light up, indicating that it’s at least still in working condition, even if the screen is now obstructed. 

 

“I… Are you okay?” The speaker crackles with the same masculine voice, this time dripping with significantly less lust, and sounding much more normal, if a bit concerned. 

 

“Oh- uhh… yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Sorry… I uhh… I dropped my phone.”

 

“Oh. Okay… Should I-?” He lets the question hang unfinished, and for all the sultry composure the man seemed to have had when he answered, now he just seems a bit uncomfortable.

 

Yosuke blinks twice, rapidly, holding the phone away from his face and staring at the screen in confusion.

 

“Should you…?”

 

“Do you want me to… continue?” He asks a little forced, his voice regaining some of it’s composure but none of the forced allure from his initial greeting.

 

“You’re… a man.” Yosuke states slowly and plainly, and he’s not sure the answer even matters anymore because he glances at the call time on the screen and as of three minutes and twelve seconds ago, he’s feeling much more embarrassed than aroused.

 

“Yes? You… called the male hotline.” The operator answers steadily, as if he is explaining something much more complicated than it is.

 

Yosuke goes back to staring dumbly at the phone, and after another four seconds that the screen counts steadily before his eyes, he manages to bend over at the waist and pick the magazine off the rug, turning it over in his hands to read the advertisement on the back. He recites the phone number under his breath, reading it off the phone screen and then finding the matching one on the half torn page. 

Unsurprisingly, the operator is right. Yosuke has called the wrong number. 

 

“Oh.”

 

It sounds small and strangled in his own ears. Something puffs on the other side, and it might be a laugh but the sound is too muffled by static to tell. It’s not that Yosuke isn’t  _ into  _ guys. He’s had boyfriends  _ and  _ girlfriends in the past, but… well, he had been looking at a magazine full of tits, not dicks, so he hadn’t really gotten himself in the right kind of mood for… this. 

 

“I can… transfer you? To the other hotline if you’d like?” The man offers smoothly, and  _ now  _ Yosuke can definitely hear amusement behind the words, making the voice much warmer and more light than before.

 

“Oh… No, it’s fine…” 

 

“Okay… I can…  _ be  _ a girl? If that’s… I mean…” The operator is  _ definitely  _ at a loss now, and Yosuke feels his face burn with embarrassment when he realizes how his response must have sounded. He tries to reassure himself by running a hand over his face and slowing his breaths, he’s speaking with a  _ phone sex operator _ , even if Yosuke had actually been  _ asking  _ for the man to pretend to be a woman, he’s sure the operator has probably had stranger requests.

 

“No. That’s uhh.. Not what I meant. I just… Sorry.”

 

“I… I’m not really sure what you’d like sir… I mean, would you like me to start over-”

 

“- _ You know what just forget it.” _ Yosuke garbles out in a rush, smashing his phone down on the “end call” button three times, each attempt accentuated with a muffled “Sorry” and “Fuck” before the broken screen registers the touch and ends the call. 

 

He stands in the kitchen and tries to steady his breaths, his face burning and his hand squeezing reflexively around the phone by his side. 

 

“Well, that was a fucking mess.”

 

__________

  
  


Yu stares at the phone that sits limply in his palm, his brow furrowed and lips turned down in a thin line as he tries to figure out if the customer had hung up because of him. Usually his calls go very well, he has the most requests out of any male operator for the hotline, and most days he just improvises, unless he’s sick, or too tired to get into it, or dealing with a  _ real  _ weirdo, that has a thing for sneezing, or eye licking, or vomit, or something that he  _ can’t  _ possibly navigate himself through without a script.

It wasn’t like the caller seemed to be into anything too weird. He just seemed… nervous. Which, Yu can understand, but usually they warm up a bit after the first few minutes. This guy just… freaked out even more. 

 

He breathes out a small laugh as he runs a hand through his silver hair, replaying the conversation over in his head as he glances around, his view mostly obstructed by the tall privacy walls of his make-shift “office”. He only comes in to work on Mondays and Thursdays, every other day of the week having his phone requests forwarded to him through a discreet business phone that he keeps with him from 6pm until 2am, his business hours, when he’s “on call”. 

 

Unfortunately, today is Monday, and Yu stretches in his seat, sliding the noise canceling headset off his ears and around his neck as he waits for the next caller. The only good thing about his office days are exactly that, they’re during the day, always a 9-5 shift, so the calls are less frequent, and more “normal” than the requests he gets late at night. 

  
  


He hears a soft knock on the wobbly wall to his left, and Yu spins his chair around to smile at Rise, who is leaning against his office wall, hip cocked to one side and offering two green paper cups with white lids held in her outstretched hands.

 

“Got you coffee, it’s from the shitty place down the street.” She smiles at him, the cup closer to him wiggling a little in her hands. 

 

Yu smiles back and takes the drink, Rise stepping fully inside the office space and moving past Yu to settle herself on the edge of his desk. 

 

“I keep telling you put up some decorations. Or at least slap some naked guys on the wall, how can you sit you here all day without any porn?”

 

“I think it looks just fine.” Yu states with a moderately offended expression, leaning forward to adjust the single kitten postcard that is stuck to his computer monitor with scotch tape.

 

“Whatever you say.” Rise mumbles under her breath, giving her drink a thoughtful look before she takes a small sip and winces at the watered down taste.

 

“Thanks. How’s your day been?” He says glancing at the coffee in his hand for the first time and taking a small drink. He tries not to show as much distaste towards the beverage as Rise, who is watching him skeptically as if daring him to insult her gift.

 

“Y’know, same old, same old. I picked up a new client earlier, and- Hey, are you still getting trouble from that one guy that keeps requesting you?”

 

_ Oh.  _ Fingergloves.

 

“Not today, I’ve been telling Yukiko to just forward him to someone else.” 

  
  


“I told you, if he keeps giving you trouble, all you have to do is send him a pair of underwear. A new pair, of course. Weirdos like that, I keep a whole drawer of ones that still have tags, if you need something.” Rise replies glibly, and Yu shudders at the thought of someone thinking they have a pair of his underwear. Most operators will take clients, select customers who are given their personal number so that they can call whenever they want. Yu has never sat well with the idea of getting so personal, preferring to only take requests through his business phone, during business hours. And he  _ definitely  _ does not send them things. 

 

“Yukiko is a great receptionist. I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore.” He says thoughtfully, taking another drink of his coffee and trying to remember if that particular customer had managed to find him since he had told the hotline receptionist not to forward any calls from that number to him anymore. Yukiko is exceptionally good at her job, and very discreet, making sure that none of the operators have any personal information leaked, and that they only receive calls from approved numbers, or first time customers. 

 

“Oh, speaking of which-” Yu turns back to his computer, opening the call log tab and scrolling down to the most recent number. Only the last four digits are displayed, the rest blocked out by small black x’s. He hits approve and watches the number disappear from the screen, figuring that the customer will probably never call again.

 

“Ooooh, new customer?” Rise purrs, watching the exchange by leaning over Yu’s chest to get a close look at the computer screen.

 

“Probably not, I doubt he’ll call again. I don’t think he’s into guys.” Yu closes the call log and glances up at Rise who is scooting herself across the desk and back to her spot on the edge.

 

“Well, if he does, you can send him over to me. Guys can’t resist the Idol  _ Risette. _ ” She grins, hopping off the desk completely and swaying her hips as she walks across the cubicle. Yu laughs under his breath as he watches, shaking his head when Rise winks once before spinning on her heel and exiting the office with a dramatic sweep of dark copper hair.

  
  


The phone rings next to him and Yu cards the thought away for another time, leaning back in his chair and plucking the phone from the receiver, clearing his throat before he hits the “resume” button and answers with a warm, purring voice, “Hello, what’s your name?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: BiBoMo
> 
> Status: Currently in Souyo Hell

 

The next time he calls is exactly a week later. And it’s not exactly desire that drives the action so much as Yosuke’s wounded pride. He’s spent the last several days replaying the phone call over and over in his head, even going as far as to keep the magazine, hiding it under his mattress and away from Teddie’s prying eyes, opening it up, sometimes in the middle of the night, just to stare at the colorfully printed phone number with some sort of pettishly established and absurdly fabricated resentment.

 

He finds himself redialing the numbers for the simple justification of proving to himself that he’s actually capable of doing it. And then immediately regretting it when the phone actually, unsurprisingly, picks up.

 

__________

 

Yu is neatly folding an origami crane to add to the small pile on his desk when his computer monitor lights up and the headset around his neck chirps shortly. He sighs and sets the crane down, currently only with one folded wing and no head, and leans forward to check the phone number on his computer to see if it’s a recurring customer or someone new.

 

It’s neither.

 

It’s the same caller from last week, the one that asked him to be a girl but then didn’t. He furrows his brow, letting the call chirp again in his ear as he fiddles with the “receive” button and tries to figure out how best to approach the caller. Recurring customers usually give him their name, or a pseudonym they go by during the phone exchanges, and he keeps the names attached to the phone numbers in his computer so that he can make the greetings more personal, rather than the scripted “What’s your name?” But he had never gotten far enough with this caller to get a name, and he’s a little worried that if he starts off with his usual “standard” greeting, he might scare the caller away again. So instead Yu just stares dumbly at the screen, watching the seconds tick up until he decides that he really can’t make him wait much longer, and answers the call with the cautious press of a button.

 

_________

 

The line is silent. Yosuke thinks he can hear breathing, but it’s soft and muted. Maybe he should talk first? But shouldn’t _they_ , he’s the one _paying_ for the phone call, the least the person on the other end can do is be a little more personable.

 

Speaking of which, _how much does this cost_?

 

 _“How much does this cost?”_ Yosuke slaps his hand over his mouth, making a muffled noise of disgust when he realizes that he has just asked how much phone sex costs… out loud.

 

“Uh… I-”

 

“- _Sorry._ Sorry. No I- forget I asked that. I uhm… I called last week.”

 

“I know.” The operator answers plainly, his voice soft and warm, and Yosuke wonders if that’s what he actually sounds like or if he’s just playing on his vocals to add some effect.

 

“ _You-_ wait, what?”

 

“We keep a call log. Do you… still want me to transfer you?”

 

“Uh.. No. No, you don’t have to do that.”

 

“Okay… What would you-?” The operator lets the sentence taper off, prompting Yosuke to give directions. He swallows dryly, reminding himself that it’s just a phone, and forcibly wrapping his free hand around his thumb when it goes to hover over the “end call” button.

 

“I’m… I’ve never done this before. I mean, what do you usually… do?” He feels like he’s asking a waiter what his favorite dish at a restaurant is, only the man on the other end of the call is _definitely_ not a waiter, and this is not some sort of weird over-the-phone sex restaruant, _and-_

 

Yosuke hums an irritated breath through his nose, forcing his scattered thoughts back on track before they starts going somewhere that he can never come back from with any shred of dignity.

 

He’s beginning to wonder why it is that people do this at all when-

 

“I can… start with a blowjob?”

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

__________ 

 

Well, at least he has a direction to go in now. Yu reclines in his seat, closing his eyes while he toys around with ideas the caller might like. He decides to take a risk, going back to his original greeting, closing his eyes until they’re half lidded and purring into the microphone.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“My.. name?”

 

“It doesn’t have to be your real name, if you’d rather stay anonymous. Just something to call you. It helps set the mood.”

 

“Okay… uhm… What about… Partner?” The caller says nervously, his voice wavering a bit in both pitch and tone.

 

“Partner?” Yu repeats back in a breathy way, tasting the name on his tongue and deciding that, all in all, it’s not bad. “Why that?” He adds, breaking the atmosphere out of nothing more than innocent curiosity.

 

“Yeah… I mean, why not? It’s not like it’s weird… and I can’t think of anything that requires more partner-ness than having sex.” The caller adds as an afterthought, and Yu actually snorts, losing all composure for a moment as he laughs into his hand.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s _partnership._ Partner-ness isn’t a word.” He answers warmly, ignoring the indignant huff on the other line.

 

Before Partner can rebuttal Yu  readjusts his headset and tugs the microphone closer to his mouth, taking a few deep steady breaths into the receiver.

 

“Okay, _Partner…”_ He hears something shift and crackle on the other line, the muffled rub of fabric and a soft breath that’s released into the speaker, amplified by the headphones over his ears.

 

‘What do I call you?” Partner asks slowly, the nervousness is still apparent in his voice, but it’s laced with something warmer now, more comfortable.

 

“Yu.” Yu answers plainly, he’s never been particularly worried about callers knowing his real name, and he’s pretty sure Partner is about as innocent as they come.

 

“Okay. Yu.” He says the name softly, in a sincere and warm way that causes the skin on Yu’s neck to prickle under the collar of his shirt.

 

He clears his throat, and continues.

 

“We can be at your place. I know you’re more comfortable there. I’m down on my knees, my hands running over your thighs. It’s so hot in here… You’re skin feels like fire and I can feel my breath hit your legs.” He starts slowly, and on the other end he hears a soft shaking breath, he’s not sure if it’s caused by arousal or discomfort, but he decides to keep going until Partner tells him to stop.

“Partner.” Yu breathes into the phone, muffling his voice with his hand as if he’s breathing the word into Partner’s skin. “What are you wearing?”

 

“W-what?” Partner stutters, his voice barely a squeak that is smothered out by a soft noise in his throat.

 

“Your clothes. What do you have on right now?”

 

“Oh.. uhh… J-jeans. Red jeans and a t-shirt. I- I’m wearing headphones too.” His reply is broken and breathy, and Yu is sure now, that’s it’s desire and not indecision, although he’s sure Partner is still a little nervous.

 

“Headphones, huh? Is there music playing?” Yu asks thoughtfully, closing his eyes and focusing on the noises on Partner’s side of the phone.

 

“N-no.”

 

“Turn on a song you like.” Yu commands, but he keeps his voice soft and inviting, and he thinks Yosuke actually nods in response before he mumbles out an agreement.

 

“Okay. It’s done.”

 

“Good. I’m playing with the waistband of your jeans, running my thumb along the inside, across your waist. I’m sliding them down slowly, stopping right at the bottom of your hips, and then I’ll mouth at you, blowing warm air over you and humming when you squirm in response.” He uses his hand to muffle his mouth again, giving a hum of approval when he hears Partner make a strangled noise on the other end. “Are you hard, Partner?”

 

The line goes silent for a moment, and he can only hear a few rasping, uneven breathes before Partner’s voice cracks loud and broken through the speaker.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. I pull down your pants the rest of the way, and run my fingers along your dick, teasing you with soft touches until I reach the head. It’s so swollen and delicious. I just want to lick you until you cum. Is that okay, Partner?” He asks innocently.

 

“ _Fuck._ Y-Yeah…”

 

Yu licks two fingers, noisily sucking on them before he pulls them from his mouth with a slick sound.

 

“You taste so good. So sweet, Partner.”

 

 _“Nngh-”_ The noise hisses in the phone, and Yu feels his stomach twist pleasantly at the noise, sweet and low and uncontrolled in his ears.

 

“You make such sweet noises when I fuck you with my mouth.” He replies breathily in response, and he earns another noise in response, that’s closer to a whimper, but still delicious and dripping with need.

 

“I’m going to make you cum now.” He whispers into the mic, popping his mouth open and swirling his fingers around his tongue noisily. He adds a few moans and whimpers for good measure, and Partner matches them in response, his own voice cracking and breathy and absolutely filthy.

 

“ _Fuck_ \- _Yu… Partner- I’m-”_ Yu moans loudly into his fingers, the noise slick and ragged, and Partner whines softly into Yu’s ears, the sound followed by a hiss and a long, shaky breath.

 

Yu pulls the fingers from his mouth with an obscene pop.

 

He lets the silence hang between them for a moment, his own breathing even a little uneven from arousal, which is honestly surprising considering most of his calls are more of a means to an end. He lets the flutter feeling settling his stomach, huffing at his own dissatisfaction, almost wishing that he had time to go relieve himself without the risk of missing his next call.

 

“That was…" Partner breathes out shakily, and the sound coils in Yu’s stomach pleasantly.

 

He finds himself staring at the cat post card with distaste until he can will himself to speak without his voice coming out strained and needy.

 

“How was is it,” He sighs into the microphone, still a little sultry, but he doesn’t sound despondent, so he decides to finish the question. “Partner?”

 

“It was…” Partner sounds a little less hazed now, his voice soft and contemplative as he hums into the speaker. The sound rumbles in Yu’s ear pleasantly. “You’re… _really good at this.”_

 

Yu chuckles at that, and Partner hums in response again, the sound tightening the spring of want in Yu’s stomach uncomfortably.

 

“Uh.. Should I… thank you?” He continues slowly, his voice slowly returning to the same uncomfortable and nervous tone as before, Yu decides that the sound isn’t as nice as when Partner is comfortable and warm, and he decides to interrupt before he scares his new caller away again.

 

“I work on Mondays and Thursdays. 9-5…. In case you decide to call again.” He adds as an afterthought, and the line has gone silent on Partner’s end.

 

“Oh… okay.”

 

“Okay. Oh- how’s your phone?” Yu interjects flippantly, not sure what he’s trying to do anymore.

When Partner’s response is warmer than before, he decides he’s on the right track.

“Ah- It’s fine. I mean, not _fine_ , I cracked the screen. But, It stills works, and I don’t really use it besides for texting and..." he lets the sentence trail off uncomfortabley,  and Yu decides to interject before the caller loses his nerves and hangs uo again.

“Good. I can’t say I’ve ever made a customer break their phone before.”

 

“Well, the real trouble was figuring out what to tell my little brother when he found out. I told him I fell down the stairs while sending a text. It sounds a little better than, “I dropped it while having phone sex.”” Partner laughs deprecatingly, and the sound is clear and pleasant, earning a small chuckle from Yu in response.

 

“Anyways, I should… probably go.” He adds after a moment, and Yu listens once again as Partner mashes down the “end call” button five times, each time cursing about his broken phone.

 

When the line goes dead Yu slips the headphones over his neck, scooting closer to the computer and moving his mouse in a small circle until the screen lights up. He clicks on the caller i.d. and tugs the keyboard closer to the edge of the desk, leaning on his elbows as he types in, next to the short series of x’d out digits, a short, simple, name.

 

:Partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My partner had stuff to do so this chapter is currently Un-Betta-d.
> 
> Forgive spelling errors for now thanks~  
> Anyways, I'm in an update nightmare so I'm going to go do some stuff for now.
> 
> Leave feedback dear readers~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the end~

Yosuke’s face is on fire. Literal fire, and he can feel it lick at his ears, bolstered by his embarrassment and shame. 

 

He slaps the phone down onto the table, and normally he’d wince at the harsh slap of the screen hitting the metal surface of his desk, but it’s already spiderwebbed with cracks from last week. Besides, he’s more concerned with the growing flame on his cheeks, rubbing his hand down his face and trying to focus on the cool, sweaty, surface of his palm. 

 

He’s not sure what the protocol is after calling a sex hotline- thinking the words makes him wince uncomfortably- so instead he just remains standing in his bedroom, his legs spread apart and his pants sitting tugged around his knees, one hand gripping his desk while the other remains frozen on his face, long fingers hiding his expression in humiliation.

 

“I… _ did  _ that. I did it.” He rasps out to no one but himself, his fingers flexing on the table as he focuses on turning his panicked, nervous breaths, into steady and even breathing. 

 

He laughs a little, mostly deprecatingly, but he can feel relief flood his chest as he lets his shoulders sag and relax. 

 

“It was just a phone call. Just… a phone call. A dumb phone call.” But it had also been one of the best orgasms of his life, and Yosuke flushes at the thought, Yu’s soft voice still playing on repeat in his head.

He tugs his pants back up his hips and scrubs his palms over his face as he exhales through the cracks in his fingers. He turns around and sags against his desk, his thumb bumping the corner of his phone and sending it spinning in a small half circle across the surface of the table.

 

He glances around his room, small and overly furnished with shelves of cd’s, textbooks, and clutter that gradually fluctuates in its intensity as he glances up and down the wall. 

In one corner is his bed, pale blue sheets ruffled and unmade, a pillow hanging lopsided off of one side of the mattress. The rest of the space is made up of a springy old sofa, two dressers, and the desk he is currently leaning on, his guitar propped to one side, and the floor littered with empty bags of chips and wrinkled clothes. 

 

Yosuke doesn’t consider himself a messy person, but he also goes to University four days out of the week, and works another six, and his schedules only match up to afford him one day off a week, so his room tends to gradually collect symptoms of his existence until Saturday. He at least considers himself more clean than Teddie, who seems to leave a tornado of dirty socks and pocket change behind him, wherever he goes.

 

He bends over and scoops an empty TaP bottle off the ground, rolling it over in his hand before he glances to his side and deposits it into the trash can next to his desk. He turns and grabs a few more scraps of papers off the table as well, his hand brushing over a stack of notes and sending them sliding over his phone. Next to the discarded stack, the top corner of the magazine is peeking out beneath the papers, the first two digits of the hotline phone number staring up at him tauntingly. 

Yosuke picks it up as well, holding it up to his nose scrutinizingly, his hands gripping the edges of the paper and making it crease under his thumbs. 

 

After a moment he huffs and moves to drop the magazine into the trash, his hand jerking when he hears the muffled scrape and click of the front door opening and closing. He flicks his wrist to the left, letting the magazine flop back onto his desk before he messily covers it with stray papers and grabs his phone from under the collapsed stack of notes. 

 

“Yosuke, I’m home!” Yosuke stuffs his phone into his pocket at Teddie’s announcement, stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

 

He walks down the hall and into the living room, flopping onto the couch while Teddie stands by the door and toes off his shoes, letting his jacket drop to the floor. 

 

“How was school?” He asked noncommittally, thumb rubbing back and forth over a crack that runs the length of his phone screen as he listens to the sounds of Teddie dropping his things next to the door and padding his way to the couch. The cushions under him inflate as Teddie plops onto the empty cushion next to him, lifting Yosuke off the couch before sinking back down under both boys weight. 

 

“Exams are coming up, so I mean, that’s hard. I’ll probably be staying after school a lot next week.”

 

“When you’re done studying just swing by the convenience store on the walk home and you can stay around until I’m off, I guess.” Yosuke huffs and buries his face in a pillow, his legs kicking up and out to rest on top of Teddie’s lap as his phone slides out of his fingers and onto the carpet below. 

 

Teddie immediately starts bouncing up and down with the invitation, the room filling the rusty squeak of sofa springs and an irritated hiss from Yosuke.  

 

“You mean it? Do you think I can have some topsicles while I wait for you to get off work-”

 

“Maybe. But only if you promise to sit still. And hand me the remote.” Yosuke adds as an afterthought, rolling his eyes in mixed parts irritation and amazement that his little brother is in his first year of college and still manages to act like a twelve year old when given any amount of responsibility. 

 

He tries to wager in his head how much he can afford to let Chie cut from his paycheck in topsicles, already mentally preparing for the havoc Ted will inevitably wreak on the convenience shop’s frozen goods aisle next week. He’s jerked away from his thoughts when the remote lands on his stomach with a hollow noise, Teddie arching himself forward and nearly sending both boys sprawling off the couch as he touches one palm to the floor and scoops up Yosuke’s phone, saying something about ordering take out for dinner that gets lost in the static of the small television across from them. 

Yosuke lets the normalcy of the moment settle like a warm blanket over his toes and chest, all thoughts of earlier forgotten in the hum of a ramen commercial and the familiar enthusiasm of Teddie’s voice.

 

_______

  
  


The week comes and goes in an ocean of homework and late hours working at the convenience store down the street. By the time the following Thursday rolls around, Yosuke is left half draped over the desk in his room, pencil rolling back and forth across the wood, under the gentle force of Yosuke’s fingers, bouncing off the edge of his nails before sweeping back up to the edge of his textbook and returning to his waiting palm, like waves lapping at the shoreline after a storm. 

 

He sighs deflatedly, halfway propping himself back up before he levels one long stare at the next question on his test paper and lowers himself back onto the table, body and mind too drained of energy to inspire any sort of sudden work ethic. It’s not until a full fifteen minutes later, when his bedroom clock reads 4:52pm, that he has officially abandoned any concept of responsibility and decides that he deserves a long nap before his shift starts tonight. He closes his notebook and reveals the half crumpled magazine page that lays underneath.

 

Oh. He had almost forgotten about that.

 

Yosuke had decided, after Encounter Number Two (or so he had named the incident) to trash the porn mag entirely. He had managed to tie off the trash bag and carry it all the way down to the chute on the floor level of the apartment before his lack of reason managed to override his propriety and sense. 

 

It’s not that Yosuke found something incriminating or particularly immoral about owning porn. Hell, when he was in highschool he had collected quite the impressive stash under his bed. But, if there’s one thing that Encounter Number Two taught him, it was that Yosuke is a good guy, a good guy who is not at all cut out for phone sex. Even though it sounds- it’s kind of- it  _ might  _ be really awesome. It was even a convincing enough argument to get Yosuke all the way down the four flights of stairs and two side hallways that led to the room that housed the apartment’s trash chute. 

He even managed to get the chute open, halfway shoving the bag into the too small hole of the chute before it caught on a sharp edge and ripped along one side, spilling a half empty styrofoam coffee cup, a ball of topsicle receipts suspiciously stamped with the same dates that Teddie had stopped by Yosuke’s work this week, and a half torn, coffee stained magazine. 

 

Yosuke managed to get the trash bag the rest of the way into the chute before he actually crouched on the stained carpet of the apartment’s trash room, staring down at the soggy, coffee covered, magazine that lay face down on the floor between two torn receipts. He shook his head slightly before scooping up the foam cup and receipt paper and tossing them into the trash, picking up the magazine last with mixed accusation and disbelief making his mouth hang ajar. 

 

Yosuke’s fingers gripped the edges of the magazine too tightly, and he couldn’t keep the half strangled laugh from escaping his mouth before he watched the papers crumple in his fist. He was  _ not _ keeping coffee stained, wrinkled, and probably, now qualifying to be considered  _ stolen _ , porn. Nope. No way. 

 

So he let the magazine slip from his hand and slide down the trash chute, followed by a satisfying muted thud of finality as it reached the bottom of the chute. He threw it away, Yosuke Hanamura is a man of integrity, and he would never let anybody say otherwise. He tried to convince himself of that even as he messily folded the last page of the magazine up and stuffed it in his pocket, creases lining the rough edges where he had torn it from the rest. 

 

Yosuke tilts his head, hair obscuring his vision, his eyes locked on the first few digits of the red phone number that stare at him from beneath his textbooks. He sighs defeatedly and tugs the page out, the muffled sound of crackling paper heard over his own steady breaths as his fingers grip the hardened edges where dried coffee has turned the paper brittle and rough.

 

He stares at it for a total of ten seconds before reaching for his phone and dialing the number, stomach flipping with nervousness as he matches his inhales and exhales with the rings.

 

______

  
  


Yu’s week runs on a pretty tight schedule. Not that he’d ever complain about it, in fact, he prefers it that way. His daily tasks are ingrained in his internal alarm clock on an almost mechanical level, and he finds a satisfying sort of mundanity in the sound of his alarm clock chirping at the same time each morning. 

It wakes him up at 6:00am to the shrill ringing of his phone alert, sitting up groggily, white sheets pooling in his lap as he stretches one hand over his head and arches his back, a small symphony of pops traveling up his spine as he takes one long, deep breath, and unplugs his phone from the charger next to his night stand. By 6:05 there’s a warm shower running in the bathroom, and a pot of coffee brewing on the kitchen counter. Yu usually spans his shower out between ten and twenty minutes, which gives him enough time to wash his hair and body, and still spend a few minutes standing under the steaming water and working the rest of the sleep out of his shoulders and neck. 

By 6:30 he’s showered, dressed, had a cup of cream with coffee, and is tugging his coat off the hook next to the door. On any day aside from Monday and Thursday, the two days that he works regular shifts in the office, he would try and get some grocery shopping and cleaning done before the evening, when his night shifts start and he has to retire to his apartment for the evening, the reason being that his particular line of work doesn’t exactly operate well in public. However, today is Thursday, which means that he has to be on the subway by 8:15 in order to arrive at work on time. 

His train is five minutes late this morning, meaning that Yu doesn’t actually settle down in his cubicle until several minutes after his phone line opens, finding Risette already occupying his work chair with her sharp stiletto heels resting lazily on one corner of his desk.

 

“Morning, coffee?” She supplies helpfully, half turning to him with a styrofoam cup extended in one hand. 

 

This is also a customary part of his day, Rise popping into his office within the first few minutes of his shift, lukewarm coffee ready for routine offering. He smiles at her lightly and accepts the cup, leaning back on the edge of his desk while Rise flips through one of the companies many magazines that lay in stacks around the building. She had been the one to initially get him the job, having encouraged him to move to the city after his unpleasant falling out with his parents that resulted in the loss of any and all financial and emotional support from them- not that they had ever had vacancy for emotions in their relationship with him anyways. 

 

“So, you have any plans for after work today? I was thinking we could go grab dinner.” Rise spins in the chair to face Yu, revealing a small paper bag propped in her lap.

 

She pinches it between two manicured fingers and holds it out to Yu, shaking the contents slightly as if prompting him to accept the offering. “The creamer dispenser was broke, so I just got you a bag full of the little plastic cup ones. I know you like to ruin your coffee with them, so I only filled the cup halfway.”

 

Yu accepts the bag and moves to face his desk, popping the lid off the half filled cup and dumping the paper bag out on the table next to it. He begins peeling the seal off each one and pouring it into the cup as he answers her, “That sounds good.”

 

“Good.” She smiles cheekily, standing out of Yu’s chair with one swift movement and and taking two steps towards the door. “Don’t work too hard, I’ll swing by around five.”

 

Rise looks over one shoulder and throws him one of her signature “Risette Winks” as her copper pigtails bounce to the side and frame her smiling face. Yu just shakes his head a bit in response, fingers still working idly to peel back another creamer cup, depositing the empty container on the top of the small mountain forming on his desk. 

Once he has properly filled his coffee cup, Yu moves to take a seat at his desk, reclining in the chair until his feet barely brush the tiled floor and tugging his phone out of his pocket as he waits for his first call.

 

The day passes in relative silence, only interrupted by the occasional unsavory phone call. It’s been a disagreeable day, and Yu has had to use his phone scripts for almost every call, barely able to navigate the repugnant tastes and requests of his customers. More than a few times he’s actually had to mute his headset, giving himself a moment to regain his composure in the face of a client’s lewd requests. 

  
It’s eight minutes before the end of his shift when Yu’s headset beeps again, indicating another caller, and he stares at the ear piece in exasperation, knowing that there’s no way he can finish a call before the time he was  _ supposed  _ to be off. Rise will have to wait, although usually Yukiko knows not to send him customers this close to the end of his shift, unless it’s a regular or someone requesting him. He shifts forward in his seat and glances at the call log on his computer screen, seeing the caller ID spelled out in blocky letters, “PARTNER” followed by a series of x'ed out digits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering where I've been the last few sum odd months, I'd like to firstly apologize. I've had a lot of personal things happen, along with some changes in living situations, and then some changes in work place, and everything has just been very... too much.  
> That being said, I hope you guys enjoy this update. I'm going to get my tumblr up and running again, so follow me at BiBoMo if you haven't already, and I'll be trying to keep updates on this story as regular as I can as well. Thanks as always for all the support and feedback, and for those of you who have been worried about my absence, all is well!
> 
> Enjoy and more to come!~


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